One Less Caramel Macchiato.

Sometimes, we just need change. We get stuck in routine and become bored with our humdrum lives. When we find ourselves in a rut, we yearn for something more, something different, something new and exciting. We daydream about a stranger coming to take us away or of being fired so that we have a second chance to chase our dreams. We search for new recipes, hair colors, clothes, coffee flavors, dishes at our favorite restaurants, bands, songs, books and words. We look for new opportunities and big breaks. We stop appreciating what is around us and start looking everywhere else but here. Because eventually, something has got to give.

Then it gives.

It gives a lot.

From big, life-altering events to insignificant daily tweaks, things start changing.

New people come into your friend groups and relationships start changing. New job opportunities arise, and your daydream of living in a different city has the chance to become a reality. New classes are offered at your school, and your quest for new words, thoughts, and ideas might come to a temporary end. New songs start playing on the radio, and your view of certain artists start to shift. New coffee flavors are offered at your daily coffee shop, and your barista insists that you will have to change your regular order.

At first, the excitement is too much to contain because this is all you've ever wanted! But then . . . your mind starts racing.

Wait. Hold on. This isn't what I signed up for. It was just a silly day dream. I was having a bad day, so I told my friend I needed a change. I didn't expect for anything to actually come of this. This is too much. I don't think I can do this. Who needs caramel-hazelnut-mocha surprise anyway? Wasn't caramel macchiato enough? I liked my life before; it was a good one. My friends were just annoying me because we spent too much time together, I didn't actually want anyone new to show up. Why do they all look so happy for me? Don't they see that this is just too, too, too, too, TOO much?!?!!!

Fear.

That is called fear.

Our minds instantaneously go from new and lovely to scary and overwhelmed. What we wanted and hoped for now seems ridiculously frivolous and impossible. We start yearning for the simpler days of routine and humdrum. We do not like change, no matter how much we want and need it.

When this change comes we have two options. We can retreat into ourselves and our familiar lives of friends who only make life as complicated as what is already "normal" and our old jobs that give us little to no fulfillment or joy and our regular coffee orders that don't really taste like anything anymore.

Or.

We can embrace the change. We can look forward with our heads up and hearts open. Taking the new challenge one step at a time. Looking beside us to see which of those familiar friends are still walking beside us, supporting our new lives. Finding joy in the challenges a new job or class might bring. Surprising our taste buds with the mixture of caramel-hazelnut-mocha.

That second option. It sounds beautiful, doesn't it?

There is a reason for that.

Change does not come from nowhere. Change comes from somewhere. In my opinion and firm belief, change comes from the only Somewhere that really matters. A Somewhere that is so beyond us its mystery is overwhelming. That Mystery is exactly what we find in our changing, shifting, chaotic life. The Unknown is the real thing that never changes. The Mysterious Unknown is bigger than us, deeper than us, and more meaningful than us. Yet, it is exactly where we find meaning, depth, and learn to appreciate the grandeur of our chaotic lives.

I write this in a time of change. For the past two and a half years my life has not stopped changing - and the past three months have not followed a different pattern. For the past two and half years my friends and family members have grown and their lives have changed. We have all been in this together, with the One who created new things, gives opportunities, and faithfully holds us in the midst of chaos.

For this Mysterious Faithful Creating Loving Peace-granting Table-turning Ground-shifting Unknown One, I am thankful. And in this One, I take refuge.

Will you join me in the journey of embracing change and leaving fear behind? I would love to see your face beside me as I look around, step-by-step. If you say yes, the promise of faithfulness is there. So, what'll it be?

"Hear my cry, O God;
listen to my prayer.
From the end of the earth I call to you,
when my heart is faint.

Lead me to the rock
that is higher than I;

for you are my refuge,
 a strong tower against the enemy.

Let me abide in your tent forever,
find refuge under the shelter of your wings.

For you, O God, have heard my vows;
you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.

Prolong the life of the king;
may his years endure to all generations!
May he be enthroned forever before God;
appoint steadfast love and faithfulness to watch over him!

So I will always sing praises to your name,
as I pay my vows day after day." -Psalm 61 (NRSV)

Speaking up.

My Senior year of college the Director of Residence Life gave me a compliment that, at first, I wasn't quite sure was a compliment. She said, "It has been great seeing you change during your time here and on the residence life staff. You were a freshman afraid of your own voice, but you have grown so much since then." That probably isn't an exact quote, but it's close. At the time I took the affirmation for what it was, affirmation. I was leaving Mars Hill College as a better person than when I came in - that place will do that to you when you take advantage of what it has to offer. I was also really confused.

I've always been quiet, especially if I don't know you very well. I am without a doubt an introverted thinker who prefers her own thoughts to outward verbal expression. But "afraid of my own voice?" I've never been that self-conscious, right?

In retrospect I completely see what she was saying. I went from shy, freshman Annie who tried to fit in everywhere and make everyone happy, to self-aware Annie who spoke up confidently in class and lead movements and formed friendships in ways others did not always understand. In four very quick years I learned that my thoughts were often too big to keep in my head and making everyone happy is an impossible goal. My voice mattered, at least a little bit. I wasn't afraid of it anymore. At least I didn't think I was.

Here I am, again. Starting my last year - almost, I have an extra semester - in school. It's graduate school this time, seminary in fact, but it's such a similar feeling. I have been moving from a confused, lonely first year who secretly has no idea what she is doing here to an almost-confident third year who is terrifyingly excited about going into ministry. And in this moment I wonder - do I have a voice? If so, does it matter?

In literature classes in high school and college you are asked to find the author's voice. While grading papers your professors ask the same of your own work. Where is your voice? Where is your belief? Where is your passion? How are you portraying this thought or idea?

It's terrifying. If you find my voice, will you like it? How can you like it if I'm not even sure I like it? I keep thoughts in my head for so long and over think them so much that they barely have meaning. I think I have to have every word perfect before it comes out of my mouth.

Maybe part of this stems from being the oldest child. Or from being a pastor's kid who was always expected to get it right, or at least repeat the right things according to a specific congregation. Or from multiple boyfriends who only ever pretended to listen. Or just simply from being a woman - especially being a woman in ministry. Wherever it comes from, it's apparently a big issue.

This is why I struggle with blogging. Every post won't be perfect. Every thought will not be accepted. Every sentence will not create an existential movement. But who needs perfect anyway? Every post is me. Every thought is from my head. Every sentence matters in my existence. Therefore, it is all important. Therefore, my voice matters.

My voice matters.

It's a big, important, difficult thing to remember. If my friends and I are picking out a movie, my voice matters. If my brothers want to listen to a band that I hate, my voice matters. If my friend is in an unhealthy relationship, my voice matters. If I'm writing a paper that only one professor will ever see, my voice matters. If I'm blogging on the internet that has millions and trillions and gazillions of other blogs, my voice matters. If I'm standing behind a pulpit on any given day, my voice matters.

I was created by a loving God who gave me passions and thoughts that deserve to be shared. I was given gifts by the Spirit that assist me in articulating ideas in specific ways. My voice matters. I matter.

Thank you, Mars Hill and McAfee for helping me learn that, even if it's a lesson that is taking a while to sink in.

And to ALL of you reading this, learn who you are, find your voice. It matters, and so do you.

So, this is home.

I have this thing where I think about home a lot. And by a lot, I mean all day every day for my entire life. Well, that might be a little bit of an exaggeration. But still. It's something that is important to me.

This summer I've been "home" quite often. Meaning, almost every weekend and 2 full weeks out of the past two months. There is absolutely nothing like the mountains of North Carolina. The pictures are constantly moving through my head. The large, rounded peaks covered in dark green trees. Behind them sit a bright, light blue sky with fluffy white clouds that scroll by. (If you need a real visual, just check my Instagram or Facebook.) I love turning right between the Wal-Mart and Burger King, driving past McGee Brother's Machine and Weld, seeing the cows and train caboose, winding around curves, going too fast on the straight away, climbing the hill, and pulling down into my parents' driveway. The best time of year to do this is June and July. As soon as you open the car door, the smell of summer drifts in, and you can't help but close your eyes and enjoy the moment. After that small, quiet moment there is a whirlwind of hugs, plans, laughter, friends, family, fun, meals, desserts, rocking chairs, sunsets, lightening bugs, and even more views of mountains than you know what to do with. That is home.

But then.

It's time to leave.

I drive the highways and interstates back down to the land of traffic, Braves, Chick-fil-a and Coca-cola. I pull into my apartment building and immediately start thinking about getting out of that complex. My roommates are all sorts of excited about our new apartment. We get the keys - with four children between the ages of 6 months and 6 years, #nannylife - and walk into the empty, light filled space. We look at each other with excited expressions - between attempting to sooth excited and hungry children - and then, that's it. We will have a three-person family in a dream apartment in Atlanta, GA, with the occasional child or 4 mixed in. We will talk, laugh, watch tv, read, cook, dream, and live together. This is home.

Sometimes, it's hard to feel like I belong in two places at once. Sometimes, I just want to find a place and stay. I try to look ahead to what will happen next and where I'm going to end up after graduation in a year and a half. I wonder where I actually belong. And in the middle of the wondering I feel something bringing my mind and heart at ease. Because I know with confidence that no matter what it looks like, I am where God needs me to be. Whether it is laughing in my friend's kitchen at her son trying to give the dog a treat. Or sitting on the back porch talking to my parents. Or laying on blankets in Piedmont Park doing homework with my friends and classmates. Or "visualizing" where our furniture is going to go in all of the rooms in our apartment with two of my favorite girls. Whatever the scene might be, I feel the Spirit's whisper telling me, "This is home. This is where you belong. Enjoy THIS moment."

And that helps me remember.

This moment is just another little part of life that I need to enjoy, isn't it?

The Small Stuff

On Tuesday I spent a whole day at home alone. It was beautiful. By the time Baylee got home from work I was ready to tell her all of my thoughts on life, love, social systems, theological issues, being nannies, my online homework, and everything in between.

After telling her one of the profound, brain wrinkling thoughts I had that day Baylee responded with, "That's really good, Ann. You should start a blog." In that moment I thought it was so sweet and supportive that my roommate and best friend thought that what I had to say was important enough to be read by all of the internet. In retrospect, she might have been tired of listening to my simple, cliche truths about life. Either way, here I am. Starting a blog. So here goes.

I noticed recently that so many things in life are only valid if they are big things. Actions are only noticed if they make a statement. Words are only listened to if they push buttons. Events are only fun if there are unbelievable stories told after. Life is only good if your big moments are good. So, we look for big moments.

We put emphasis on the first kiss and first dance. We tell people to remember what happens on their big day - whether that's a graduation, wedding, interview, or promotion. We ask friends about the moment they knew they would be friends forever. We ask couples how they met. We think life will be better once this one huge, life changing event happens. We act like life is full of big moments, and you have to stay focused on making those big moment happen. The big moments are what define our lives, after all. Right?

Maybe not.

I think life is defined by small moments.

We learn each other through the small things. In the simple moments of watching someone clean their room, listening to their favorite song in the car, hearing them laugh at that joke for the millionth time, talking to them about their favorite book. These small things add up to who a person is.

We trust each other through the small things. Your forever friend isn't the one who always compliments your shoes; she's the one who checked on you every day when your grandmother was sick. Your significant other is not solely defined by the line he used when you first met; he's the one who makes you laugh in the middle of the most boring day. These small things add up to a relationship.

For all the big moments in our lives, there are a thousand small ones. For all of the grand gestures, there a thousand small actions. For all of the profound statements, there are a thousand comments. We put so much emphasis on the big moments, the important days, and the huge speeches. But why? Is that what makes us appreciate each other? Is that helping us enjoy life to the fullest? A full life isn't defined by how many big moments you experience. A full life is defined by how you experience the most ordinary days. Finding hope every morning, seeing good in every smile, knowing love in every moment, that is a full life. And I want to live it.